Vertically Challenged
by LaylanatorXVII
Summary: Rebecca is on a mission to retrieve her coffee cup, and nothing can stop her. Except, okay, gravity, because it just had to go and be a jerk. She's getting too old for this. Slice of life, not much substantial plot value. Sort of weird, but be brave. Hints of Shaun/Rebecca, because it's my OTP, and where there is one, there is sure to be the other. Review, please.


_A/N: Inspired by the fact that the cabinets in my house are too damn tall for me to reach anything in the top shelf._

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 _I imagine this taking place sometime in the seven years Rebecca and Shaun worked together before Lucy brought Desmond to the warehouse and the fit hit the shan. Just to provide a little context. Also, I ship Shaun and Rebecca so hard, so there may be hints._

 _._

 _So, I don't know how I feel about this one. It is pretty much bereft of any recognizable sort of meaningful plot. It's more of a "Slice of Life" thing._

 _This was basically me experimenting with action. And by "action" I don't mean "guns and knives and explosions" (*shudders when she even considers writing that*) but simply the action of climbing onto a counter to retrieve a coffee cup. If I wrote the way I was entirely comfortable with, then everyone would be floating in a state of nothingness, talking all day, and that can get rather boring, so here I am. Be gentle, please._

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 _ **WARNINGS: Some language (come on, this is me we're talking about) and…um, hints to sexual attraction? Nothing I would normally consider even worthy of mentioning, but here we are.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: If I owned Assassin's Creed, then Ezio would have simply slapped his mother across the face and yelled "SNAP OUT OF IT" instead of spending years upon years and risking his neck to find all those feathers. Sadly, she remained catatonic, and thus, you can infer that I do not own Assassin's Creed. All rights to Ubisoft, the bastards. However, my birthday is the 13**_ _ **th**_ _ **, and it would make a very nice gift, of they're looking for any takers.**_

 _ **.**_

 _Constructive criticism will be accepted and utilized accordingly._

 _Flames will be used to light my cannons as I fire at the approaching Borgia and scream at the residents of Monteriggioni, "RUN, YOU BASTARDS, RUN!"_

* * *

She was going to find whoever designed these cabinets and kill them, Rebecca resolved as she swayed drowsily on her feet in the middle of the kitchen (or what passed for the kitchen in the warehouse; it was more of a large closet with a sink, counter, and cabinets, and it was where they kept the microwave and mini-fridge, so she supposed it was a kitchenette of sorts.) She blinked slowly at the cabinets (it took a bit of effort and a massive surge of willpower to open her eyelids again once she'd closed them), giving her best effort at a glower despite the fact that her entire body felt heavy and sluggish. She hoped she wasn't about to fall over; Shaun would never let her live it down.

She lifted a hand and scrubbed the sand from her eyes. She yawned widely for a moment, and then refocused her (now more potent) glare at the wall of white cupboards. It was just ridiculous.

The cabinets were old, like the rest of the warehouse. They were covered in chipped, off-white paint, and more than a few suspicious stains, some of which were present when Shaun and Rebecca had first arrived, and that neither of them wanted to think too deeply about. Especially that weird green one by the microwave.

All in all, they were just cabinets, besides the questionable stains. However, one thing had always irked Rebecca about them, and while it usually wasn't a problem, it sure as hell was a problem now.

Apparently, the people who installed the cabinets were giants. Or just assholes. Because the cabinets were set too far from the floor for any normal human being to conceivably use them.

Rebecca scowled as she considered her predicament, gazing hatefully at the top shelf, where someone (probably Shaun, the bastard, who else could it have been?) had placed her coffee mug. Which was now several feet out of her reach. Perfect.

Usually her cup was either left out on the counter or stored on the outermost edge of the lower shelf where, with an embarrassing bit of stretching and hopping on the tips of her toes (a spectacle which seemed to amuse Shaun to no end), she could reach it relatively easily.

Shaking her head to clear it, Rebecca considered courses of action.

Shaun could probably get it for her. He merely had to stretch out his arm and rock forward a bit on the soles of his feet and voila! Whatever was on the top shelf was his. She bitterly coveted his height at times (although she would die before telling him so. He was already smug enough.)

So Pros and Cons of Plan A. Pros: She would have her mug, and thus her coffee and she would be able to get on with her day. Cons: There would be no end to the teasing. While Shaun was obviously amused by her little dance routine every time she had to retrieve her mug, he had never actually said anything outright. However, she knew, she just _knew_ that if she swallowed her pride and shook him awake at seven in the morning because she was too short to reach her coffee cup, then he would be on her case like white on rice. The jokes would never cease.

So, Plan B then.

Sighing heavily she swept one hand over her forehead to shove her hair, messy from sleep, out of her eyes. She glanced halfheartedly around at the room, devoid of chairs (with just the two of them here there was really no reason for much furniture, especially since they had to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice) and shrugged. Looked like she was doing this the old fashioned Assassin-y way.

She walked up to the counter (which was at a regular height; the people who lived here before were freaks) and braced her palms flat on its surface. She hesitantly put weight on her arms, locked her elbows, and leaned forward. When she felt the soles of her feet leave the floor a couple inches, she hovered for a moment, testing. Then she leaned forward with a little more force and quickly lifted her right foot, groping for a foothold. She found the handle of one of the bottom cabinets where they kept bleach and cleaning supplies (well, Shaun did, he was the neat freak) and braced her foot on top of it. Rebecca paused in that pose for a moment, testing the handle's surface. It was round and, regrettably, not the best of footholds. But she really, _really_ needed her coffee, so, before she could talk herself out of it, she bent forward, leaning her right forearm and half of her torso down on the counter and quickly hitching her left leg up to rest her knee on the edge of the counter. She realized she probably looked ridiculous (her ass was sticking up in the air, for God's sakes; this was why she was a technical Assassin, damn it, she was not meant for this parkour bullshit) and swiftly reached up with her left arm to grab the edge of the lower cabinet and started to pull herself upright.

Unfortunately, when she did this, her head collided solidly with the underside of the open cabinet door.

When the spots had faded from her vision, she reached out and batted it out of the way, cursing. She grabbed the edge of the counter in a firmer grip and slid forward on her knees so that they rested more securely on the counter's face. She straightened up the rest of the way, shooting the door a dark look. Then, now gripping the counter with both hands, she leaned back to see her mug, still sitting innocently on the top shelf, now just a few feet away. She just had to get on level with it.

She released a heavy breath somewhere between a sigh and a growl. She was getting too old for this shit. And she was only twenty-three, for God's sakes.

Gripping the cabinet hard, she slowly leaned to the right and shifted her left knee upward until she had her foot braced flat on the counter surface. Holding her breath, she repeated the process with her right leg and then _slowly, sloooowly,_ easing up on her legs so that she was crouching awkwardly on the counter (she didn't dare stand straight up.) Her thighs began to ache after just a few seconds.

Damn. She should start exercising again.

Still gripping the shelf, she ever so carefully leaned back until she found her coffee cup with her eyes. She grinned in triumph and carefully stretched out her arm to grab it.

Her eyebrows scrunched together and her mouth settled into a frown.

"You've got to be kidding me," she breathed.

The damn cup was still a good three inches out of her grasp.

She wasn't going to stand for this. (Well, actually, that was exactly what she was going to do.)

Throwing caution to the wind, she used her grip on the shelf to swing herself upward and spring up onto her feet, other arm still extended. Her fingers landed on the curve of the mug's handle.

It was at that moment, however, that her foot slipped on something flat and thin, causing her to lose her balance. Before she could blink, let alone reach out to grab something to stop her fall, she was toppling back off of the counter…

...right onto something tall, warm, and evidently as surprised as she was, judging by the startled "What the-"

Rebecca felt the floor shudder as they landed backwards onto the floor. There was a moment of stunned silence as they watched a single overlooked coffee filter slowly drift to the floor, obviously the source of her fall. Then:

"Bloody Hell, Rebecca, what on earth were you doing?!"

Rebecca, still in shock, tilted her head back to find herself face-to-face with an irate Shaun. His glasses were missing, and he was still in those nerdy fleece pajamas he wore to bed.

"Shaun!" she gasped out, heedless to the fact that she was pretty much sprawled across his lap, "When did you get here?"

He gave her a deadpan look. "I live here."

Still thrumming with adrenaline, she didn't rise to the bait. "I mean the kitchen."

He stared at her with a sardonic tilt to his eyebrow. "I had just strolled in for a cup of tea and was barely in the room before you decided to- quite literally- jump me."

She rolled her eyes at him, the shock wearing off a bit. "I fell, idiot."

Shaun continued to look unimpressed. "You fell."

She nodded.

"Off the counter."  
She nodded again, wondering where exactly this conversation was headed.

There was a pause, and then: "What the hell kind of Assassin are you?"

Her eyes popped wide with indignation. " What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Have you no balance at all?"

She scoffed and blurted, "You're one to talk! And anyway, if _you_ hadn't put my cup on the top shelf, then I wouldn't have even been on the counter, jackass!"

He paused, his mouth open to retort with some sarcastic comment, no doubt. He shut it for a moment, and then:

"You were trying to get your coffee cup."

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, "Yes."

"But you're too short to reach it."

She gritted her teeth, which seemed to be all the answer he needed, because he burst into laughter.

Rebecca slid off of him and knelt on the floor for a moment, staring at Shaun, who was now curled up and gasping for breath between bouts of cackles as his face turned red with exertion. Unfortunately, she could feel herself turning the same color with embarrassment.

"To hell with this," she muttered under her breath, suddenly standing. On an impulse, she turned and aimed a kick at his side. Sadly, there wasn't much force behind it (damn it, she needed her coffee _now_ , she wasn't the same before she was properly caffeinated) and it only seemed to make him laugh harder.

Huffing, face still burning red, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the counter, determined to give it another go. However, she had just raised her foot to reach for a foothold when she felt a pair of warm hands at her waist. She paused in surprise (and a bit of irritation) and turned her head to make a retort when she felt herself being pulled away from the counter. She dug her nails in a fruitless attempt to stand her ground.

Shaun, now wheezing and coughing (and giggling, damn him, what kind of man giggles, she would remember this incident, mark her words, she would), looped one arm around her middle and tugged her away from the countertop. "For pity's sake, don't try that again, you'll only fall and kill yourself." She sputtered with indignation, but before she could protest he deposited her in the middle of the kitchen and turned towards back towards the counter.

Infuriated, she took a step forward, resolved to dig an elbow into his ribs and shove him aside. However, to her surprise, Shaun reached up to snag her coffee cup by the handle.

He simply stretched out his arm (causing his shirt to rise a little up his torso, revealing a narrow strip of skin that she absolutely _did not_ stare at, thank you very much) rocked forward on the soles of his feet (which revealed another inch of skin, okay, _maybe_ she was looking, but she was only human), hooked his index finger around the smooth handle and dropped back onto the flats of his feet with a sigh.

"Honestly, Rebecca, I thought you were smarter than this, However, I suppose I should have expected that you would choose the difficult course of action when a simpler one is present. It' simply in your nature," As he spoke, he fiddled around on the countertop as she simply watched in stunned silence. After a minute or so, he turned around and handed her a steaming cup of coffee.

She took it numbly, still staring incredulously at him. She gazed down into it for a moment, the steam bringing the aroma around her face in swirls.

She looked sharply up at him. "You got my coffee cup. And filled it up."

He crooked an eyebrow at her. "So?"

She knew she probably sounded like an idiot, and the coffee fumes were so tempting and making it hard to focus, but it just seemed so…out of character.

" _Why?"_

He gave her a deadpan look and said, straight-faced: "You're not you when you're thirsty."

She stared at him in shock for a moment. Did Shaun just…make a joke?

"Snickers, Shaun? Really?"

He shrugged, snagged his own cup of tea off the counter (he must have made it when she was briefly mesmerized by the coffee fumes and his oddly nice gesture) and patted her on the shoulder. "We'll get you a stepladder next time we go to town."

She gave an offended cry and swatted him on the shoulder as he walked out of the room.

Then, once he was gone, she grinned slightly and took a long draught of her coffee.

* * *

 _Again, I feel kind of weird about this one, it's a bit odd. I feel like I screwed up Shaun, although I did my best to make him his usual snarky self. Tell me what you thought about my descriptions and what I can do to improve._

 _Hopefully it was amusing, at least a little. I tried to make it funny._

 _Anyway, thanks for reading._

 _Must post now, before I lose my courage._


End file.
